Chapter 25 #3
“Interesting. So the Drutes are retreating?” he asked, his tone arrogant. Zion had to suppress his disgust when he realized the king didn't even care about the casualties—he'd focused only on the enemy.
“We believe so, Your Grace. We patrolled the entire central region where our troops maintain the strongest presence, but we found no soldiers.”
The king sat back with a thoughtful expression, then gestured:
“Come closer. I want to verify.”
Not that he needed proximity to read minds, much less a warning. If the king wanted, he could enter any unprotected mind within the inner walls, thanks to Serguei's gift. But by giving warning, he implied he would seize the person's mind and violently rummage through their memories.
Zion held his breath and stared at Serguei. The man stared back sternly, as if concentrating on something—probably erasing any suspicious information from Cauê's head.
The provisional general stepped forward onto the first stair.
Koduz was focused on everything happening around him, lightning crackling in his gaze, and Zafira stood ready as well.
At any sign of danger, she would protect the king while Koduz attacked without mercy.
The king concentrated, his eyes going vacant.
Serguei held steady at his side. Several minutes passed, and then the general staggered backward—sweating, panting, visibly shaken.
“Interesting,” the king said. “What you say is true—they are retreating. Perhaps this is the time to send more squads to clear the area.”
Zion could almost see the gears turning in the man's head.
Cauê was still gasping, trying to clear his mind. It was obvious his psyche had been turned inside out—the king was a butcher compared to Serguei.
“I want the troops ready for a rapid advance. This is a unique opportunity for Interion. If we can get closer to the city, we can finally surround them and massacre them one by one.”
Zion watched him, brow slightly furrowed.
The hatred Elitium harbored for the Drutes was almost physical, and the shadows stirred, sensing such rancor.
Zion held his own grudge against the reds, but he understood that not all of them were enemies.
There were civilians who weren't part of the war, children who had never wielded a weapon.
“If you'll permit me some advice, Majesty, I believe we should advance with caution,” Zion said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance. The king cleared the manic look from his face and turned his full attention to Zion.
“Should we?” He lifted his chin slightly, staring down at him. “Tell me the reason, General.”
“The Drutes must have some plan. They wouldn't retreat without good reason or a strategy already in motion. Perhaps they're plotting something.”
The king observed him for a few seconds.
The general felt the power touch him without permission.
He fought the urge to tremble with hatred at the invasion, but directed the man toward his second consciousness without much trouble.
Zion showed exactly what he was thinking: the Drutes retreating might not be a good omen—it could be some kind of attack maneuver.
“Your thinking is sound, but war makes no sense, and this conflict has dragged on for many years,” the king countered humorlessly, straightening on his throne. “We have a golden opportunity here.”
Zion considered his words carefully. He didn't want to contradict the king, but keeping the troops safe was his primary objective.
“We can continue advancing with our patrols and intensify the search for camps. We've already cleared half the outer terrain, and this is a good chance to secure more ground around the Sarahi gorge. However, I would advise taking it one step at a time—test the area so we don't walk into a trap.”
Cauê's eyes darted between them, fearful of the debate—Zion was one of the few people the king allowed to argue military matters or challenge his decisions.
The sovereign continued probing his mind, seeing how each piece fit together.
“With caution, but with speed.” The corner of his mouth curled in disgust. “Whatever is causing them to withdraw, it must be something big. So we'll attack before they have time to regroup.”
Zion didn't know how to hide his disapproval, so he simply stared at the king and let those thoughts drift freely. Serguei stiffened beside him as the monarch's eyes gleamed sharp as blades.
“You’re brave, General. The bravest to ever dare come up here,” Elitium said gravely, then rose from the throne in one swift motion.
Everyone held their breath as he made his way toward Zion, descending the three steps dramatically.
A sadistic smile spread across his lips as his hand rose toward the general, who remained motionless.
Then, something like approving pats landed on his shoulders.
The shadows hissed in response but shrank back under the king’s glare.
“I like your honesty, and despite all that miserable blood running through your veins, you’ve done excellent work outside these walls.
But I hope I don’t need to remind you again that I give the orders and you follow them.
” Elitium toyed with a strand of electricity between his fingers.
The lightning buzzed and crackled—a loud warning.
Zion watched, knowing it was just another cheap intimidation tactic—Elitium had always liked to rule through fear. When the general said nothing, he smothered the lightning in his fist and added:
“We’ll follow your plans. We march with caution, but we advance as quickly as possible. I’m sick of wasting time.”
Since this was both a declaration and a compromise, the two generals said nothing—simply nodded. With that, Zion turned to the provisional general.
“Be careful. At the first sign of trouble, fall back and make contact. If you need me, I’ll be there in two hours, so be smart.”
“Will do, General.” Cauê saluted.
The king returned to his throne, his gaze still on Zion.
“I hear you have some promising students,” he said, drumming his fingers on the padded armrest. Zion waited for him to continue, but the king just stared.
“Yes, some are quite good,” he replied, wondering where this was going.
“I won’t bring up the weak half-breed who nearly got killed during an attack.
” Zion knew the king had said that only to gauge his reaction, so reluctantly, he kept his temper on a tight leash.
“I’ll just say I want harder training, and by the end of this year, you’ll send me at least three high-level combat soldiers.
I’ll choose one to become a pillar. Are we clear? ”
Zion forced himself into a stiff, shallow bow and kept his eyes away from the empty chair beside Serguei.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he murmured, fighting back the urge to grind his teeth.
The general didn’t like the king’s tone. Sometimes it seemed like the monarch just wanted to hear himself talk. Of course Zion would deliver good soldiers—not just three, but far more than that. But the clock was ticking, and thanks to the king, Zion felt pressured to move faster.
“Breno Lutieve—make sure the boy is among the best. I want his power,” Elitium said, and Zion caught Zafira’s slight shudder.
“It will be done.”
“You’re dismissed. I expect good news at the next meeting.”
Zion and Cauê bowed again and withdrew in silence. The king’s gaze remained on their backs, and before they could leave, the monarch called out.
“Zion?” Both generals stopped, and the shadow wielder turned, trying not to think the worst.
“Yes, Your Majesty?” he replied, matching Cauê’s tone.
“The chair is empty, and the offer still stands.”
“My answer is still the same, Your Majesty.” Zion looked at Serguei sitting in his chair—the tired eyes, the bitter resignation of being forced to spend his days there. “I’m better with a sword than with words. My place is on the battlefield.”
He could tell the king believed him. The monarch dealt with lies all day—of course he’d recognize the truth.
“Hope springs eternal, doesn’t it?”
Zion forced a stiff smile and bowed again.
One more bow and he’d end up growling. They left the room, thanking the gods it had all ended well.
If the king knew what he did outside the walls, he wouldn’t be offering a chair—he’d be offering the guillotine.
Neither option appealed, so Zion preferred to stay as far away as possible.
Once they were out of sight and the doors firmly closed, Cauê shuddered.
“By the gods. A thousand years could pass and I’d never get used to that power,” he grumbled, stepping into the elevator. “I feel like someone put my brain in a blender. If the gift is like this in the king’s hands at level 700, I don’t even want to imagine what it’s like in Serguei’s.”
Zion avoided looking at the former trainer. He knew better than anyone what it was like.
“Try meditating. It’ll help realign your mind.”
Every word that left his mouth tasted bitter. It revolted him to remember how he’d spent hours realigning his thoughts after someone invaded them, back when he didn’t know how to create a shield.
He felt Cauê studying him.
“Must’ve been hell growing up with someone like that.”
Zion rolled his eyes.
“You know they’re listening to every word, right?”
Cauê straightened and fell quiet.
“What kind of animals are attacking the soldiers?” Zion asked, changing the subject.
“We're not sure exactly. The howl sounds like a wolf, but the tracks are larger and different.
Some soldiers who were near the attack claim the creature's shape was as big as a horse,” he replied as the elevator door opened onto the entrance hall, where Sirena was watching them.
Zion simply ignored the woman, and the shadows hissed in her direction.
“Maybe a new chimera?” he asked with keen interest. He'd destroyed two underground labs, but perhaps the enemies had created a third.
“We think that might be it, but we haven't let the information spread yet. We don't want to cause panic among the squadrons.”